Society's Most Disreputable Gentleman. Julia JustissЧитать онлайн книгу.
I assure you, I have no intention of ravishing her in full view of the house—or anywhere else. I admit that the circumstances of my arrival may have given you good reason to doubt it, but I do in fact possess the morals of a gentleman.’
Nor was he yet physically up to the challenge of ravishing anyone. Though if the luscious Miss Neville were the prize, he might be forced to test the limits of his endurance.
But perhaps he’d been too blunt. He was thinking how he might soften that bald statement when Miss Neville said, ‘I fear I owe you an apology. If I appeared to give less credence to your scruples than you felt proper, please note that my cousin is in a delicate position, no longer a child, but still a year or more from her come-out. As you yourself remarked this morning, a young lady in such a position must take extreme care not to compromise her reputation. And so I feel I must protect her—whether she wishes me to or not.’
Greville nodded. ‘Point taken. Though I confess, I have difficulty seeing Miss Holton, with her enthusiasm for fencing, shooting and cigars, as a young lady ready to embrace London society.’
Miss Neville gave a rueful grimace. ‘Indeed! Unless something changes, I doubt she will be very enthusiastic about embracing it. But that’s not all. Let me further confess that, distressed by your … appearance when you first arrived, I did not greet you with the warmth and hospitality due my father’s guest. I do hope that, during the rest of your stay, you will allow me to make amends for that regrettable lapse.’
Of all the things she might have said, that apology was perhaps the most unexpected. In his observation, a Beauty was generally too complacent about her own worth and too absorbed by her own concerns to notice or care about the feelings of lesser beings.
Had some traumatic event—perhaps the tragic loss of her mother the previous summer?—spurred her to this unusual sensitivity? Whatever the cause, the perception and empathy she’d just displayed hinted at a character as sterling as her beauty.
A beautiful lady of gentle birth and sterling character who was already fully capable of managing a vast estate would be a prize indeed on the Marriage Mart this spring. The more discerning London gentlemen ought to fight each other to vie for her hand.
A pang of sadness flashed through him that in neither wealth nor title would he be considered worthy to enter that contest.
But then, he wasn’t in the market for a wife, certainly not a wealthy, well-born one eager to plunge herself into the London society, he now disdained. Shrugging off that stab of regret, Greville said, ‘Shall we exchange mutual apologies, then? I shall beg pardon for not initially appearing worthy of your hospitality.’
‘Very well, mutual apologies it is,’ she agreed with a smile.
Greville caught his breath. Frowning, Miss Neville had been lovely; uninterested, she was the handsomest woman he’d ever met, but with those tempting lips curved upwards, the smile adding a glow to her cheeks and an appealing softness to her countenance, she was magnificent.
The warmth of her expression flowed like molten honey over his cold heart, glazing it with sweetness. Smiling back, he glanced into her eyes and was captivated.
Ah, how mesmerising were the turquoise-blue depths, scintillating with highlights like a white-capped sea under a blustery fair sky! Greville could cast himself adrift in them for ever.
He felt almost dizzy, his equilibrium unexpectedly upended by a force too powerful to resist. He felt as if he’d been tossed to the deck by a ‘wind shot’, the blast of air from a passing cannon ball that could knock a man off his feet, though the ball itself never touched him.
The attraction was so strong, he instinctively wished to move closer, catching himself from doing so only at the last moment.
For several seconds they both remained motionless. Had the blast he felt affected her, too? he wondered. Certainly she had gone still and silent, her lips slightly parted but mute, her wide eyes staring back into his.
She was shaken, he concluded with a wild upswing of joy. Every sense exulting, he felt the nearly irresistible urge to close the distance between them and kiss her.
Mercifully, good sense intervened. He stepped back, making himself recall why kissing the daughter of his host was not a good idea, even though other parts of his body enthusiastically endorsed such a course.
She broke the fraught silence then, saying something about returning to the house that his still-dazed ears were barely able to comprehend.
Pull yourself together, Greville. Though initially he’d merely thought to amuse himself, tweaking this pretty miss with her superior sense of worth, he now felt the strongest compulsion to discover more about her.
‘Let me walk in with you,’ he said, deliberately slowing his pace while he reassembled his scrambled wits to produce some suitable conversation to prolong their interlude. ‘You’ll be wanting to return to your duties, which, I understand, are considerable. Luke, the footman who acted as my valet this morning, told me about the sad losses your family has recently suffered. Please accept my condolences, Miss Neville. However brilliantly you handle the household—and in my observation, that is very competently indeed—taking over for your mama under such circumstances must have been very difficult.’
The smile faded—and somewhat to Greville’s alarm, tears glistened in the corners of her eyes. ‘Yes, it was … difficult.’
There was no reason the sadness on her face should pull at his heart—but somehow it did. Hoping to distract her from that reminder of her loss, he said, ‘You are soon to depart to London for the Season, are you not?’
‘Yes, but you mustn’t think I mean to slight Mama’s memory. I would remain here in mourning, but before she … left us, Mama made me promise I would go to London as planned. My Season has already been so often delayed that, compared to the other young ladies, I shall seem practically at my last prayers.’
Greville laughed at the sheer absurdity of such a notion. ‘I assure you, Miss Neville, anyone meeting you will think only that you are one of the loveliest and most charming young ladies ever to grace London.’
Rather than preen coquettishly at his compliment, she blushed again and looked away, as if such gallantry made her uncomfortable. How wonderfully refreshing that a girl of her astounding beauty seemed to possess so little vanity! he thought, impressed despite himself.
Perhaps there were few personable or perceptive gentlemen in the vicinity of Ashton Grove, leaving her unaware of just what a Diamond she was—a circumstance that would certainly change once she reached London. She’d grow inured to flattery soon enough, he concluded with some regret.
‘You are too kind, Mr Anders,’ she said softly.
‘No, ma’am, merely truthful. But, if you don’t mind my asking, what has delayed your Season?’
She paused, a shadow passing over her face, and for a moment Greville thought she wouldn’t answer. ‘A succession of unfortunate events,’ she said at length. ‘Three years ago, Mama’s best friend, with whom we were to stay, ended up at the last minute having to remain in the country due to complications after her daughter’s lying-in. She and Mama had been bosom-bows during their own come-out year and had long planned to share mine; we preferred to delay a year rather than forgo her company. And practically speaking, by that late date, it would have been nearly impossible to find a suitable house to let, even if we’d wished to proceed alone.’
‘And after that?’ he prompted.
‘Two winters ago,’ she continued softly, a sorrowful note creeping into her tone, ‘my grandmother, who had resided with us for years, fell ill with a fever that lingered on and on. Though she urged us to go to London without her, of course we refused. We lost her that summer. You’ve already heard what transpired this past year, when my aunt, the household and finally Mama fell ill.’ She forced a smile. ‘In sum, a rather dreary tale.’
So in the space of two years she’d lost grandmother, aunt and mother, a succession